


War

by jurdanhell



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: F/F, F/M, QoN - Freeform, Queen of nothing - Freeform, especially being named ‘war’, how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories, htkoelths, idk man, its pretty fluffy, jurdan - Freeform, nicaryn, tcp, the cruel prince - Freeform, the queen of nothing, the wicked king, tkoe, tqon, twk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jurdanhell/pseuds/jurdanhell
Summary: jurdan goes to the mortal world to carve pumpkins; chaos ensues
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar, Taryn Duarte/Nicasia, Vivienne Duarte/Heather
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	War

Jude sat on the front porch of Heather’s apartment, carving knife in hand. She leaned her head against the railing of the steps, most definitely not thinking about all the better uses she could put the knife to.

She leaned over the pumpkin in front of her, still undecided on what to do with it. When was the last time she even carved a pumpkin, anyways?

Cardan, on the other hand, was very eager to take part in the mortal tradition of stabbing the pumpkin until it was given a face. Perhaps someone other than Jude should’ve explained the activity.

Nevertheless, they had traveled to Vivi and Heather’s apartment in the mortal world, supposedly to stab pumpkins. Around the small, cramped porch sat Jude and Cardan, as well as Vivi and Heather, accompanied by Oak, in addition to Taryn and Nicasia.

After the last hour and a half of nearly nonstop chatter, the sudden quiet that fell over the group was almost startling. No one moved to carve their pumpkins. With a sudden decisiveness, Jude slammed the knife down into the top of the pumpkin. The sudden movement and the flash of silver should’ve been startling from her hand — from any hand, really — but with Cardan being her nearest company, Cardan, who wasn’t particularly afraid of her blades in any way he couldn’t claim as an aphrodisiac, hadn’t flinched in the slightest.

To anyone else, it might’ve been important to note the murderous look in her eyes as she slammed the knife into the pumpkin that sat in her lap. To Cardan, well, he’d never been jealous of a pumpkin before.

Jude had carved a cruel circle around the stem of the pumpkin, pulling the top off like the head of her enemy and holding it up like a trophy, knife still in hand. Then, setting the top of the pumpkin down, reached inside and pulled out a handful of the sticky, orange seeds.

“Ew, look!” Oak yelled from across the small porch. “Jude’s got pumpkin guts!” He’d said it with the enthusiasm only a nine year old could have about a recently deceased pumpkin. Jude sat it down on the trash bag that lay flat between her and Cardan as she shot Oak a look.

After carving a sour looking face with X’s for eyes into her pumpkin, she plunged the carving knife into the side and piled a handful of the orange seeds into its mouth and hung more from the knife. Apparently, her pumpkin was forced to retain its murdered form until its final death, as rot sunk its way through the tough skin and infested the smell that defined the mortal holiday.

“Where are the candles?” Jude asked, glancing up at Vivi only for a second before returning her murderous gaze down to her latest victim; nothing was safe from her wrath.

There was an overexaggerated sigh on Vivi’s end as she tried to announce her mistake without saying it. “Fine. I’ll go get them.” Clearly overjoyed with the fact that she didn’t have to own up to her forgetfulness and that she didn’t have to correct it, she leaned back into her girlfriend who was making faces at her.

Jude stood and wiped her hands on a paper towel. Stepping down the stairs and checking her pockets for cash, she’d begrudgingly left her somewhat comfortable seat to walk four blocks to the nearest convenience store for tealight candles. Cardan took one look at her now-clean hands and threw a rather large handful of the orange goop right at the back of her head. It stuck to her shirt and cemented itself in her hair.

She only shot him a look in warning before pulling as much as she could from her hair and throwing it to the ground. This meant war.

By the time she returned, a fifty pack of tealight candles and lighter in hand, she’d formed a plan. Nothing too awful, she liked him that much at least.

She sat down her dollar-store purchase and removed the knife from her pumpkin. “I was told I smelled like pumpkin,” she said cooly, her voice betraying the thump in her chest she was near certain everyone else could hear.

“Oh? I wonder why,” Cardan said. He looked up at her with a mock innocence so pure that if she didn’t know better, she might’ve believed it was an accident. Somehow.

Jude took the top of her pumpkin off and flipped it upside down, carving out the bottom, too. She’d carved a hole that was near as big as the whole pumpkin. “This is your fault,” she said.

“Perhaps.”

“No, it is.” She carefully placed the stem back on top as she flipped it back over.

“Okay, so it is. What are you going to do about it?” Nothing good. Nothing good for _him_.

She plopped the pumpkin over his head in one fluid motion, earning a well deserved silence from everyone else who sat on the porch. The look on Cardan’s face was nothing short of surprise. Even as most of his expression was blocked, it was clear that whatever she had intended to do, he hadn’t expected that.

Jude stifled a small laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. No one else on the porch even tried to hide it, their laughter growing by the second, the empty multiplication of giggles to full blown cackles as the High King of Elfhame wore a pumpkin on his head. The Pumpkin King.

And, despite it all, nothing was brighter or better than Jude’s laugh. Cardan decided then that wearing a pumpkin on his head was definitely worth it to hear her laugh. Even more so as, when the laughter died down, he couldn’t pull it off.

Try as he may, and he most certainly did, the pumpkin crown was absolutely stuck over his head. His death mask of future rot betraying the smiles he tried to hide as his wife’s laughter only grew.

“We might have to smash it,” Vivi suggested, still trying to pry the Pumpkin Crown from Cardan’s shoulders. She stepped away a few moments later, off to who knows where doing who knows what. Cardan couldn’t tell. 

Although, to be fair, he had the good sense to look horrified for a moment. In that instance, he debated playing his fear off as the pure terror of destroying his wife’s creation, though he ultimately decided that smashing something around one’s head was most definitely scarier. Besides, if she hadn’t have wanted it broken, she shouldn’t have shoved it over his head.

“Maybe we could carve it away,” Jude said, holding up the large carving knife with a nearly innocent glint in her eye. Cardan knew better.

At some point, Heather brought out her polaroid camera and took some photos of Cardan with his Pumpkin Crown, and another that Jude had posed for; in none of which Cardan knew he was being photographed.

Still, he looked well in all of them, much to Jude’s dismay. One in particular featured him sitting on the porch stairs, glorious crown of scented death and all, as jude stood behind him holding her large knife. Her feature didn’t go above her waist. Rather, it was the edge of her skirts and the knife glinting in the sunlight. Heather promised to make her copies.

Vivi returned with a hammer, holding it up with mischief alight in every fiber of her being. The shocking pleasure of Jude’s laughter hadn’t left him, even as he eyed the tool he was soon to be willingly hit over the head with.

This meant war indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> :,)  
> hi folks. i promise i’m not dead


End file.
